The Way of the Bodhisattva

It Gets Easier

The first time, it’s hard.

Look at the monkey bars.
You grab the very first bar.
You hang. You wobble.
You drop down. Plop.

That’s okay. It’s the first time.

It gets easier.
It gets easier.
A little bit each time,
it gets easier.

The next day, you try again.
You reach the second bar!
Then you drop. Plop.

That’s okay too.
Falling is part of it.

It gets easier.
It gets easier.
A little bit each time,
it gets easier.

You try the next day.
And the next.
Your hands get strong.
Your arms learn the swing.

Then one day,
you go all the way across!
It used to feel too hard.
Now it feels a lot less hard.

Some days your arms are tired.
That’s okay. Rest, and try tomorrow.

So when something feels too hard,
do a little.
Then do a little more.

Say it with me:
It gets easier!

A note for the grown-up

For the grown-up reading aloud: this comes from Shantideva’s 8th-century Buddhist poem The Way of the Bodhisattva, which says nothing stays hard once you are used to it, and that bearing small troubles trains you for big ones. With a young child, praise the trying, not only the finish. The honest part the rhyme leaves out is that practice makes hard things easier, not always easy, and a few things stay hard for everyone. The point isn’t that your child can do anything. It’s that the hard feeling at the start is normal, and it shrinks each time they come back.

Can I Fix It?

Oh no. Your juice spilled.
You feel mad. That’s okay.

Now ask: Can I fix it?

Yes, you can!
Get a cloth. Wipe, wipe, wipe.
All clean.
Being mad didn’t wipe it.
The cloth did.

Can I fix it?

Oh no. Your tower fell down.
You feel sad. That’s okay.

Can I fix it?

Yes! You can build it again.
Block on block on block.

Can I fix it?

Oh no. It’s raining.
No park today.
You feel grumpy. That’s okay.

Can I fix it?

No. Nobody can stop the rain.
Not you. Not a grown-up. Not anybody.

Being grumpy won’t stop it either.
So feel it for a bit.
Then find a rainy-day game.
Puddle boots? A blanket fort?

Can I fix it?
If yes, fix it.
If no, feel it,
then find the next good thing.

And if it’s too big for you,
ask a grown-up.
Sometimes they can help fix it.

Say it with me:
Can I fix it?

A note for the grown-up

For the grown-up reading aloud: the question is a child-sized version of a famous verse from Shantideva’s The Way of the Bodhisattva: if there’s a remedy, why be dejected, and if there’s none, what use is being glum? The trap for a young child is hearing that sad or mad feelings aren’t allowed. They are, and the primer lets each one land first. The move is only what to do next. If something keeps upsetting your child, that’s a “too big” thing, and your help is part of the fixing.

The Hand Helps the Foot

Ouch! A splinter in your foot.

What does your hand do?
It reaches down.
It pulls the splinter out.

Your hand doesn’t stop and say
it’s not my foot.
Your hand just helps.

Hand helps foot.
Foot helps hand.
All one body.

Your hand can’t feel the ouch.
Only your foot feels it.
But your hand helps anyway.
They are on the same team.

Hand helps foot.
Foot helps hand.
All one body.

Now look at your friend.
Your friend fell down.
Your friend has an ouch.

You can’t feel their ouch.
But you can help, like your hand.
Hold out your hand.
Help them up.

Your friend wants to feel good.
You want to feel good too.
Everybody does.

And you matter too.
When you have an ouch,
friends can help you.

Hand helps foot.
Foot helps hand.
We help each other.

A note for the grown-up

For the grown-up reading aloud: this is the heart of the eighth chapter of Shantideva’s The Way of the Bodhisattva, where he asks why we guard our hands and feet as one body, and answers that every being wants happiness and fears pain just as we do. He pushes it much further, toward putting yourself last, and adult readers argue over how far is healthy. For a child, the safe part is the even part: others matter as much as you, and you matter as much as them. Helping a friend up is the move. Giving away everything, or letting someone hurt you, is not.